


This is my Home. Maybe it can be Home for Others as Well.

by tigereyes45



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 09:32:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17578337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigereyes45/pseuds/tigereyes45
Summary: Hawke's mother is dead. Hawke is coping, but Varric and Aveline aren't sure for how long she'll last. The bar trips are getting longer, and her house if haunting her every step.





	This is my Home. Maybe it can be Home for Others as Well.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Solshine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solshine/gifts).



When Hawke woke up this morning she was feeling down. Her brother was gone, her mother was dead, and her uncle had all but disowned her. When Hawke woke up this morning she had expected the world to throw another heavy hitting punch into her gut. Maybe Isabella fled as Aveline had predicted all those years ago. Perhaps Aveline had been killed while on duty. A shiver runs down her spine at the thought of Donnic taking her place. Donnic was fun but he was so easy to bribe. Hawke knows that from experience.

Yet when she opened her eyes she wasn’t in her bed. Isabella was a few feet away, and Aveline talking with Varric was what had awakened her. Her brother was still gone. Fenris still refused to spend more than a few hours at the Hanged Man with them, and her mother was still dead.

“This can’t keep happening,” Went Aveline’s frustrated voice.

“I know, but she can’t handle being alone right now. You do understand that, Aveline?”

Hawke kept quiet and watched the scene unfold. Aveline was holding the hilt of her sword tightly. As if it was the only way to keep her hand from wiping her face, or from punching Varric. That would be a sight, Hawke decided. Aveline and Varric getting into it. The responsible mom and pop of their group. Aveline would win, and Varric would bet on her as well. They could con a few of the guests out of all their money, and use the spendings on more beer.

When she returns her eyes back to the two they had stopped talking. Both were looking at her then, and all Hawke could ask was, “How did you know I was awake?”

Aveline sighs before looking away. Suddenly examining the crowd in the Hanged Man was more important than checking on her friend. Hawke felt disappointed. Varric’s flushed face looked from Hawke to Aveline and back again. His expression changing from one of concern to a simple smile. Oh no, she thought. He was hiding something. Varric hid a lot from Hawke, that she knows, but it hurts when it clearly is something that has to do with her.

He asked how was her nap. As if she hadn’t slept a full six hours in her seat, with Isabella next to her. His eyes showed a deep concern which left Hawke’s mind distracted. So distracted she had decided she could not look at him as long as his eyes were so sad yet warm. When he picked an emotion, she would return. With that thought, Hawke suddenly stood up, grabbed her staff, and left.

None of them followed her. Although Aveline had called out her name. If Hawke had to guess it was Varric that stopped her, or a brawl broke out. Either way, it gave Hawke the opportunity to just go. She first headed to the Hightown only to be met with the looming shadow of the Amell mansion. She almost fled to Fenris’ in an attempt just to hide, but if he would even let her in was a question she didn’t want to risk getting a no for.

When she left Hightown her feet carried her to Darktown. A place where many a scrounger wound up. She had steadily started avoiding the place for several reasons as of late. Many of which rise to the forefront of her mind as the waft of stench hit her nose Hawke flinches. The smells of urine, and disease somehow reminding her of blood, and her mother’s perfume. Anders clinic was near, she could go there. He always needed more ingredients for his poltices. It was a way to keep her busy, and he never turns down help. Even from those, he can not stand. As long as you were not a Templar he would find some task for the able-bodied.

When she saw his clinic Hawke paused. Varric was already standing outside it, talking to Anders. He didn’t look like he was much enjoying the conversation. Varric had his practiced smile on his face. The telltale signs of his discomfort came from the way he held his arms, crossed right over his hairy chest. The corner of his mouth twitching a little more as the conversation went on.

She had two choices. She could leave or go on and pretend that it wasn’t Varric she had been hiding from. She could still try and help the clinic, throw herself in helping people. Hawke looks back at them only to see Anders quietly glance in her direction. Hawke moves back behind the wall she had turned around. She would go visit Merrill.

As she starts heading back up to Lowtown her name gets called. “Hawke!” He sounds breathless as he shouts it. He rounds at a speed she had never seen him go before. If she didn’t have the hangover the bounding nature of his movement would have made her laugh. Yet his shouting was enough to drive a powerful, splitting pain through her head. He sees that she was standing still now. Smiling, Varric whispers her name this time. As if just uttering it took all of his patience and calming nature away from him. Or perhaps he had guessed what her condition today would have been after last night. A guilty part of her wanted it to be the former. She knows it is the latter.

“Yes, Varric?” Hawke asks deciding she was going to look out through a hole in the ceiling. A hole that allowed for just the smallest sliver of light to slip in.

He tries to smirk but it slips as he takes another deep breath. He was losing patience. Just like Aveline had. When he tells her that they need to talk, she is still staring at the hole. Hoping that the fluttering of the light was a dragon above them. A dragon would be cool. It would also stink less than all the people above them.

“Hawke, are you listening?” She wants to lie. To say no so he would be offended. “Yes,” she admits, and she can hear in his sigh that he did not believe her.

“Hey, Varric,”

“Yes, Hawke?” He asks as he rests his back on the wall beside them. She risks looking down at him. His head was tipped back, strawberry blonde hair contrasting greatly to the ugly wood it touches. Of course, the light shone down on him. Hitting him at the perfect angle. As if Andraste herself was shining the light down on him. When his eyes open she jumps. Just very slightly into the air. She attempts to play it off as if it hadn’t happened. As if she wasn't just caught fantasizing of better things in this brief moment.

“Something caught your eye? A cat perhaps?” His wordplay wasn't as sharp today. His barbs lacked a punch. One that Hawke had been serving herself with all night. Every night since, well Kirkwall had taken much.

“Seriously Varric? Aren't you missing a bit of wit in your words today?” She challenges. The words bitter. Full of malice that was not his.

“Sorry if there says after Leandra my quips are still lacking their edge.” He retorts, bitterness shifting to regret once they're said. “Hawke I'm sorry I didn't,” He starts pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Stop Varric. It's alright. I’m fine. Mother is the dead one.”

“The way you’ve been going, Aveline thinks you might be next.” He sounds tired. The tone fills Hawke with a deep melancholy. She looks back down at the ground. She flinches as rough fingers rub gently against her hand. “I’m worried too Hawke.”

“I’m fine.” She insists.

“I know. You always are. Physically at least.” Varric pokes her side. Hawke steps further away. “Hawke we both know that mentally, you are hurt.” His voice sounds broken now. More broken then her mind would ever be. “And emotionally you are drained.”

She doesn’t bother to deny it. That was why she was down here after all. To avoid Aveline’s mother hen attitude. Varric’s soft eyes. The looks they would give. Fenris would let her sleep. Isabella had her party. Merrill made food, and Anders didn’t ask questions. Yet those two. Those two geuinely showed ways of caring that reminded Hawke too much of the family she had lost. Leandra’s face, Bethany’s soft eyes. Comforting touches that only brought back the pain.

“Go away Varric. I’m only down here to see if Anders needs any help with patients.”

“No, you’re running away. Saving others so you don’t have to save yourself.”

“Helping isn’t saving Varric. You sound like Anders.” So stuck up and dramatic even over simple things. There was no deeper meaning. She didn’t need to save herself. She didn’t even need therapy or to talk things out. She just needed to keep busy. She just needed to help people. Then there would be fewer reasons for others to go bad. Fewer thugs, and bandits, and killers. Fewer early deaths.

“Fine then. Let’s go help.” Varric offers her his hand. Even if she asked again, he wouldn’t go. He was almost as stubborn as Carver or her father. Never as pushy as either of them though. Save for maybe right now.

“Fine.” She takes his hand and pulls him along behind her.

He follows without complaint. Yet even now he needs the last word. A question instead of accusation. Care in his voice instead of confusion.

“Hawke I know,” he pauses. “Why do you do this?”

“Do what?”

“You’re hurt. I’ve noticed that whenever you are, you party all night or drink alone. Yet during daylight hours you either hide, or you are out helping people. Big deed or small. So why do you do it Hawke?” His question isn’t simple. Neither is the answer. Still, she tries to answer it.

How does one explain the weight of the world  The knowledge that even one good deed could prevent so many evil ones. Maybe she hadn’t done enough of them. Or maybe too much good was done and the world had to bring about balance. Maybe it was just the words of her father’s that haunt her. Maybe it was her mother’s eyes.

Hawke shrugs. “I like helping Varric. After all, Kirkwall isn't just my home.”

"Well, at least let me help you make it a better home." Varric squeezes her hand. He also takes the lead of the conversation as they meet with Anders. A knowing look towards Hawke tells her more of his thoughts than words ever did.

**Author's Note:**

> For Solshine's prompt: Hot Mess Hawke who probably needs more therapy then she lets on.  
> My true weakness though is anything that deals with how important Kirkwall is to both of them, especially to Hawke as an immigrant who cares deeply about her new home. They make fun of it, but it's theirs and they want the best for it.


End file.
